


Family Unit

by janetcarter



Series: The Greatest Adventure [4]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Pregnancy, Telepathy, Unplanned Pregnancy, complicated feelings because narn stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25280599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: Lyta is bad at accepting help, which is all G'Kar wants to give. She doesn't fully understand why, however.
Relationships: Lyta Alexander/G'Kar
Series: The Greatest Adventure [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740013
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	Family Unit

**Author's Note:**

> For the Hurt/Comfort Bingo prompt "Backrubs/Massages."

Lyta wasn't usually one to give in to pain. She was a weapon, after all, and the Vorlons made their weapons durable enough to withstand almost anything the enemy could throw at them.

But weapons also usually didn't have a baby in their uterus putting so much strain on their spine they thought it might snap in half. Her hands continually targeted her lower back whether she wanted them to or not, only giving temporary relief to aches that never stopped.

It was just one of the many parts of her condition she'd succumbed to, and she hated it. She hated the way she'd taken up a sort of waddle when she walked, the way she craved foods only G'Kar knew how to make, and the way she couldn't bottle up a single emotion without the lid flying off and tears bursting out.

What she hated most, at the current moment, anyway, was the way G'Kar kept glancing from the stove beside her any time she arched her back.

"I get it," she finally snapped, shifting as though she'd only been stretching. She would've continued cutting vegetables, but the way her stomach got in the way would only make this conversation more awkward. "I'm huge. You don't need to stare."

She could tell he was still figuring out how he was going to word his remark, and she couldn't exactly blame him. But the way she stared at him, challenging him to make one false step, probably didn't help.

"That is not why I was looking," he said, meeting her glare with something sincere.

If he intended to tell her to take it easy, she was going to lose it. She much preferred his wide-eyed astonishment at how humans carry their young over his hovering. 

"Really? Because this," she continued, placing a hand on her bump. Due to her resistance to shopping for bigger clothes, her tank top revealed a sliver of skin. "Is kind of hard to miss."

"Which is why sitting would be far more comfortable if you would--"

"One, no, it really wouldn't. Two, I'm perfectly capable of cutting up a"--she snatched up the purple leaves--"glorified stick of celery at the counter. And three, the booth is barely big enough for me anymore, so I think I'll stand, thank you very much."

Her knife sliced through the stalk with a thud. And another. And another.

She was so focused on it she barely heard his sigh.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see him stirring the pot once again, but the way his shoulders slumped was eating at her. After a long silence, split up by the erratic rhythm of the knife that felt akin to the twinges in her back, she finally set it down. "You didn't deserve that."

"No," he agreed, not meeting her gaze. "But I understand where it came from." Before she could respond, he clicked off the burner and added with a weak smile, "Well, I'd say it is time to eat."

She couldn't argue there, because if she tried to ignore her hunger the baby might kill her. But as she watched him prepare food _she'd_ requested he make, she still couldn't help feeling bad.

When they finally set the table and sat down on opposite sides, he made a comment about how she fit in the booth just fine.

"Okay, fair," she replied after eating a forkful of noodles. "But it's still not as spacious as it used to be."

"That is a good thing," he said. "It means the baby is healthy."

She struggled not to cringe. "You can only say that because you're not the one carrying her."

"If your biology had given me the chance, I would be."

"Blame the Vorlons." She took another bite, maybe not paying enough mind to the heavy way he said it. "That's what I do."

He set down his utensil, pausing for long enough she found herself looking up. "Even now?" 

"You know I didn't mean it like that." She felt tongue-tied trying to defend herself because, well, what could she even say to that? "It's just… It's hard, being like this."

"Then perhaps it would be easier if you listened to your body rather than fighting it."

"Fighting you, you mean?"

"Well, that might help as well." He sighed. "We are a team. Or, we could be, if you would allow it."

She looked down to the food, yelka noodles in one bowl and a Relojian salad knock-off in the other. "I told you what I was craving. That counts for something."

"It does…"

"But making me food isn't enough for you."

"I do not want to push you," he said, finger fidgeting against the utensil. "But I would like to be of _some_ use, seeing as how…"

When he looked down, her heart sank.

She felt so stupid for not realizing, for not _listening_ when the signs were so clearly there. Just because she hated pregnancy, it didn't mean it wasn't hard for him having the tables flipped on who carried the kid. There were a couple positives to her condition she could list if forced, but really… she thought he would've considered himself the lucky one of the two. "I didn't realize it mattered so much to you."

"I did not expect you to." He leaned back against the booth and sighed, and she tried not to take offense "But you are not the only one managing unforeseen circumstances."

"I'd give her to you if I could." And she honestly would.

"But you can't," he stated, hand falling flat against his empty pouch. "Not yet, at least."

"Well, your pouch has first dibs as soon as she gets here."

"Dibs?"

"Forget it, bad phrasing. I just mean…" She stroked her stomach as the baby shifted, feeling even more awkward than usual because, well… what was her body if not a reminder? "She'll be here soon, and when she is, you'll have all the time with her in the world."

A smile tugged at his lips. "At least until she becomes too big to be carried as such."

"See, exactly." She tried to be relieved his tone had lifted, but it fell silent against her next concern; that period of time, whenever it might be, wouldn't involve her. "It'll be fine."

-

By the time the dishes were done and her head hit the pillow, she was still thinking about their conversation. And her back was still killing her.

G'Kar hadn't said much since they left the kitchen. He was scribbling in his book, seemingly making a conscious effort not to observe her, which wasn't exactly fair to him when it was his baby too.

Maybe, since it would be more for him than for her… it wouldn't hurt to let him help.

"G'Kar?" she said, giving him a moment to put down the quill and look up. "My back hurts."

His expression brightened like a new lightbulb. "May I…?"

She nodded, shifting to face away from him. She couldn't say she regretted it once she did. His fingers pressed spirals into back at angles she never could've reached on her own, relieving tensions that'd made their home in her muscles weeks prior.

If anything… she just regretted not letting him do this sooner.

"Lower, please."

He eagerly complied.

By the end, her body felt even more unfamiliar than normal, but this time in a way she didn't mind. Once she rolled back over to face him, he thanked her.

"I should be thanking you," she admitted. "You're good at this."

"I do my best."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't listen sooner."

"Don't be," he said, shifting under the covers. "I could have been more vocal."

"Not with the way you probably thought I'd react."

"You are already doing so much, and I know you detest feeling--"

"--Helpless?"

"It is not helplessness," he corrected. "It is acceptance of working together."

That was probably what he told himself, too, when looking at her reminded him of what he was missing.

"I'll try to do better."

"Trying is all I ask." He kissed her cheek, and then her bump.

"Wait, can I show you something?" she asked as he reached for the lamp. "Like, telepathically."

Drawing his arm back to his side, he squinted.

"Trust me, you'll like it."

"Well, then how can I refuse?"

She took his hand and curved it against her stomach, closed her eyes, and concentrated. The baby didn't quite have _thoughts_ \--they were more like… vague feelings, a sensation of comfort or recognition of a familiar sound--but, whatever they were, they'd recently begun to make themselves more distinct.

"Talk to her."

"Hello, little one," he said softly.

"Sing that one lullaby. The one from last night."

With the baby already wriggling around, she wasn't looking forward to potentially getting kicked in the ribs. But she wanted him to understand as much as he could.

As soon as the first line flowed in his voice, a burst of excitement sparked into both Lyta's mind and his.

He gasped. "Was that…"

She nodded, rubbing her stomach as the baby kicked. "That's her."

They continued like that for a while; his song filling the room, the baby's movements nudging against their hands and her sensations pulsing in their minds. It was a kind of peace Lyta struggled to accept because, well, things wouldn't be like this forever.

But when a wave of contentment rolled against her own thoughts, causing G'Kar to beam, she figured it wasn't so bad to make the most of now.


End file.
